


Tell Me Why

by genagirl



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 05:13:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/794307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genagirl/pseuds/genagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A long and tiring trial puts Jim on a collision course with himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tell Me Why

**Author's Note:**

> Jim is so in control, so sturdy. I wanted him to be hurting and not know   
>  why. Im not sure if this works or not, or what I was trying to say and show comes across.   
> 

## Tell Me Why

by Gena

* * *

Jim Ellison carefully lifted his head and gazed at himself in the mirror. He looked better than he felt; slightly pale beneath his tan and fatigue had carved hollows beneath his cheekbones but except for tiny lines and slightly narrowed eyes, the casual observer would never know he feared his head might explode at any moment. Of course, the headache was nothing compared to the ache which had taken up residence in his soul, eating away at everything he'd ever thought himself to be; self-reliant, independent, and invulnerable. 

The faint click of a latch made him shift his gaze to the opening door, slivers of pain lanced through his skull with the movement. He'd fled the courtroom with its excited babble for the restroom's quiet and really didn't want to share it with anyone. Concerned blue eyes raked his reflection. So much for casual observation, Jim thought to himself. 

"You alright?" Sandburg asked. 

"Yeah, Chief," Jim assured his partner. "Just a headache, but it's easing," he lied. 

"Damn reporters," Blair growled. They had been the media's favorite targets for almost a month now. The Cascade Courier had done a three part series, complete with photos of a weary James Ellison behind the protective ring of Blair Sandburg's arm, about the drug czar masquerading as an upstanding citizen. Even True Crime had sent a reporter to get the dirt, giving the White House scandal a rest after the case got picked up on national television. Blair's anger warmed Ellison, miraculously making the pain behind his eyes fade a bit. "When this is over I'm never watching television again," Blair declared. 

"And miss The Secret Diary of Desmond Pfeiffer?" Ellison teased. 

"Very funny. Look, you've got some sick time and I don't have any classes until Monday," Sandburg said, "let's head out to Ice Point and do a little communing with nature." His eyebrows arched, eyes wide and pleading, Jim could actually feel himself giving in. He did have some sick time coming to him and the way he felt right now, he could use it. Plus, and this was a big plus, he needed some time alone with Sandburg. Just him and his guide. Jim had realized, in the passed two months since his partner's brush with a death via a designer drug called Golden, that he cared about the younger man. Cared with a depth which bordered on undying love. Every time he looked at Blair he could feel it growing and the depth and breadth it had reached scared him more than even the onset of his sentinel abilities had. 

A desperate fatalism seemed to fill him with that realization. He loved Sandburg more than anything but the kid didn't return his feelings in the same way. Yes, Blair loved him - as a brother, a friend, but not with the white-hot-roast-in-the-inferno devotion he felt. Hopelessness reared up like a black horse, trampling his heart in the dust and leaving Ellison convinced of the futility of loving someone as special as Blair Sandburg. Blair had a light which drew people, he could have his pick of companions unlike Jim who's list of intimates had dwindled to exactly two names in the passed ten years; and Simon Banks would not want to know about Ellison's longings for another man no matter how good a friend he was. Jim had come to crave the grad student's company, only then feeling complete. During the day, with Blair beside him, Jim knew he could face anything thrown at him, he had his guide and the light shown on him alone with sparkling intensity. Darkness came in the form of other commitments, projects and friends demanding Sandburg's attentions and when they lured him away from his sentinel, Jim again realized he was one of many. Once despising of his heightened senses, he had come to embrace them because of the claim they afforded him on his partner but deep down, Jim knew there would come a day when Blair walked out of his life as suddenly as he'd walked into it. He had to deal with this need, he had to deal with it in his own way before he lost what little right he had to his partner. 

"I think it's a plan, Chief," Jim told his friend, pulling himself from the muddy thoughts which threatened to drown him some days. "Let's get back in there, they're about ready to announce the verdict." He ushered the other man from the room with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Ellison liked to keep physical contact with his partner, not just for the balm it provided to his abused senses but also because it announced to the world he had a claim on Sandburg and it wasn't to be disputed. The press had referred to Sandburg as an unofficial observer with the Cascade Police Department, though most of the stories never failed to mention the fact Blair shared Jim's loft apartment. At first there had been muttered speculation and tittering laughter when the two of them hurried passed the cameras, but a few well placed glares and a shove or two and those had stopped. Now they swept passed crowds of reporters who parted to allow them into the courthouse, Blair receiving polite nods from all but the worst of them. Jim had lost his temper so often those first few days of the trial that he'd earned the nickname Edgy Ellison with the local reporters but as time went on, he'd begun to ignore them which irritated them much worse. 

Pushing Blair along, they returned to their seats in the noisy courtroom. The foreman called " all rise" just as they reached Captain Simon Banks' side and when they finally sat Jim could feel Banks' concerned gaze sliding over him, almost hear the silent exchange between his partner and his captain. He didn't meet Banks' eye; he didn't need the added pressure of Simon's anxiety. Weary not only of body but also soul, Ellison could feel nothing but the smaller hand, which had settled on his shoulder. He forced a smile and nodded at Sandburg. They had gone into the courtroom knowing the case was shaky at best but the defense lawyer had raked him over the coals, calling him on every point, wearing him down, trying to discredit him with hostile witnesses. Jim had faced it all, ending each day with the hopes it was the last but the case had dragged for three weeks and it had drained him dry, sapping his spirit and testing the limits of his endurance. The media had camped on the courthouse steps and each day he and Blair had run a gauntlet of reporters, their lights blazing in his eyes, the babble of their questions, accusations, and speculations ringing in his ears. After the first week he'd begun to lose control, his senses had begun to flare, swinging dangerously from one extreme to the other. Blair had remained at his side the entire time, shifting his own schedule around, calling in favors, making a deal with the Devil for all Jim knew. But he had been beside him, guiding him through the tangle of his senses, but more importantly just being there when Jim needed the unquestioning support only someone as close as Blair had become could bring. 

Ellison tried to rouse enough energy to concentrate on the foreman's pronouncement. He sat, shoulders slumped, eyes dull, knowing his friends were very worried but he couldn't do anything about it. Across the isle at the defense table, Jason Richards glared at him and all Ellison could think about was getting out into the fresh air and never having to look at that face again. Numbly he realized he no longer cared if Richards was convicted or not, what would one more or one less scumbag on the streets mean? It seemed so hopeless, so overwhelming because nothing ever changed. He fought to take them down and some high-priced lawyer did her best to set them free, a never-ending cycle of crime without the punishment. "It matters, Jim," Blair's quiet voice shattered his lassitude, making him start. It wasn't the first time Sandburg had somehow read his thoughts and said exactly what he needed to hear. Jim looked over at his friend; the worry in Blair's eyes touched him more deeply than anything had in a long time. No one had ever cared about him, not since his mother had left him standing on the front porch as she drove out of his life, leaving her two sons with the man she'd grown to hate. Since that time, the bewildered boy had grown into a wary man, giving his heart only halfway, knowing it would be handed back to him broken beyond repair. Carolyn had discovered that early in their marriage and their escalating fights had centered on the fact that he couldn't let her inside. In the end she, too, had left him standing there watching her leave. No one stayed, no one but Blair and someday he would go away and there would be nothing left. The heart Ellison had once guarded like Fort Knox had been deposited into Sandburg's keeping and when Blair left only a ragged and bloody hole would remind him of his folly. Jim covered the hand which touched his knee, squeezing gently and hoping his fear couldn't be detected by the man who knew him so well. 

When he looked back towards the proceedings, Ellison caught the tail end of a smile fleeting across Richard's features. There was something so smug, so triumphant in it that Jim couldn't help the sudden convulsion of his fist as a spark of his true self, the Sentinel of the Great City, flared again. "Jim," Blair gasped. Ellison quickly released the hand trapped beneath his and retreated into indifference. He sat there, no longer really paying attention until Sandburg's hand under his elbow made him stand. Jim blinked in surprise, he hadn't even heard the verdict but by the way people were smiling he assumed it had been guilty. "Congratulations, Jim," Simon said, clapping him on the shoulder, "Richards won't be on the streets for a long time thanks to you." 

Sandburg pressed closer, his smaller body fitting into Jim's side and making a barrier between the detective and the press which rushed forward. Like hyenas scenting blood, their weird cry filled the air as they circled the detective in search of the ultimate sound-bite. Bright television lights and a roar of voices shouting questions, assaulted Ellison. For a second he could see nothing as the lights cartwheeled sickeningly, and the roar of voices thundered in his ears, and then Blair was shoving people back. "Detective Ellison will issue a statement later today," Sandburg yelled over the clamor to be heard. Jim, despite the need to get away, liked seeing his partner take charge and clear the news people off. He nodded to his friend and following in Sandburg's wake, headed for the truck. 

"Are you all right, Jim?" Simon asked with obvious concern once they'd reached the front steps of the courthouse. The big detective's face had paled, his eyes were red and watering and he looked ready to keel over at any moment. A fleet of vans, each sporting a local television station's call letters, were parked at the curb like a flotilla ready to do battle. Blair continued to fend off cameras and pushy reporters, clearing a path for his partner and Banks. "Maybe you should take a few days off," Simon suggested. Jim had been the star witness in the case, he'd earned some time away from the grind of normal police work and from the looks of him, if he didn't get it Simon might be short one great detective, not to mention an unofficial observer. 

"I could use it, Simon," Ellison murmured, rubbing both hands over his face. He looked older, eyes filled with something dark, something Simon couldn't put a name to. Only when Jim's gaze settled on the whirlwind still engaged in verbal combat with microphone welding reporters did his expression clear, suffusing with affection. "Blair and I might head up to Ice Point. Think your cabin would be free?" 

The black man grinned, "sure. You two can use it, Daryl and I won't be back up there until he's done some serious repair work on his grades." Jim managed a wan smile. He snagged Sandburg's arm dragging him away from the journalists' reach and handed him the Ford's keys. Jim didn't need to see the stunned look on Blair's face at this turn of events, he could practically feel the shock. His truck, a vehicle Blair took great pleasure in calling the "hayseed", had never been community property. He drove - period. Only in extreme emergency did Blair take the wheel and then Jim extracted a vow from his friend that if the truck was wrecked for any reason Sandburg would be at his mercy. Blair climbed in, taking great care as he pulled away from the courthouse. Jim could feel the anxious glances being cast in his direction but he closed his eyes, right now all he could do was fight to hold onto the piece of himself still able to function. 

Blair got them to the loft and packed both their bags as Ellison sat on the couch willing his endurance to keep him going. Blair's normal chatter had faded to a few, brief questions about what he should pack for Jim. Even his habit of talking aloud to himself had been abandoned in regard to Ellison's brittle state. Jim found he missed the noise, as much as some sounds grated on his hearing, the cadence of Sandburg's voice brought with it a peace he'd only ever known since meeting the younger man. Twenty minutes later they were heading north towards the pristine beauty of Crystal Lake. The best thing about living in Cascade had to be that you could go from metropolitan Mecca with its fancy stores, throngs of people and high finances one moment to the unspoiled beauty of mountains with their glistening tops, invigorating fir trees and pure water the next. Jim let the hum of the tires lull him into a doze, his ever present headache preventing anything more restful. The warmth of Sandburg scant inches away from him lent a measure of comfort and allowed him to relax. Sandburg's connection to him, the bond which existed and had from the beginning, had always made him feel safe. After the Army, Jim had found himself unable to loosen his grip on his control even with friends and lovers, he'd had to be vigilant or danger would strike - at least that had always been the feeling. But with Blair beside him, it was as if the younger man would somehow protect him - him the "Blessed Protector". Jim glanced over at his friend and met the questioning indigo eyes with a small grin. 

"Don't get use to this," he warned, gesturing at the truck's interior, "I'm not letting you borrow it to pick up girls." 

"Like that would happen in this thing," Blair said with a grin. "How's the headache?" 

"Fading a bit," Jim said. "I just needed to get away from all that crap. I don't think I could have taken another day." 

"Yeah, you look pretty stressed." Sandburg's eyes were sharp and compelling as they swept across Jim's features. "Simon told me he'd brought supplies up last weekend so we won't have to stir from the cabin until late Sunday. Think three days of peace and quiet will do you some good?" 

Ellison allowed himself a tiny smile. Three days alone with Blair would be heaven - and hell. "After these last weeks it might kill me," he murmured. The rest of the journey was completed in silence but not the dreaded silence of their fights but the encompassing silence of their friendship. When they reached the small cabin Blair insisted on carrying the two bags while Jim opened the door. Simon had cleaned the place up and brought in wood on his last visit so they had nothing to do to set up their weekend house. The cabin had been Simon's uncle's and the only thing Joan hadn't been able to get part of in the divorce. It sat back from the narrow, rutted road hiding among the trees like a brown rabbit in its burrow. The main part of the cabin had a fireplace on one wall to make it the living room and an ancient stove and refrigerator against the other designating the kitchen. The furniture had the well worn look and haphazard arrangement of generations of men occupying it without benefit of a woman's eye. One of the doors at the rear lead to the only bedroom and the closet which had only recently had indoor plumbing installed the other door lead outside. 

"Look at this view, Jim," Blair called, dropping his burden on the sagging couch and making for the back deck affording a view over the valley. The fresh scents of rain and pine trees filled Ellison's lungs as he joined his partner. The cabin had been built to overlook a silver stream snaking down from the mountains, the tops of pine trees swayed, stretching away down the slope. It was like flying across an enchanted land on a magic carpet of dark green, mist had been sprinkled among the trees like fairy dust and clouds danced like fat sheep. Jim breathed deeply, filling himself with the pureness he'd missed living in Cascade. He could hear Blair doing the same, inhaling the peace and quiet as if it could heal every ill they had ever suffered. "It looks like the beginning of the world must have," Sandburg muttered. Jim wrapped his arm around his friend's shoulder, pulling the smaller man close. Blair's steady heartbeat mingled with the sounds of the forest, as natural as the wind through the branches, dispersing some of the bone weariness which had taken root in Jim's soul. He held tightly to his friend, wanting nothing to ever part them, nothing to ever break the bond which sizzled between them. At that moment, with Blair nestled against his side, the pine scented breeze sweeping over his upturned face, the mist like a lover's kiss on his skin, Jim would have sold his soul to stay like that forever. 

"Let's stay here," he suggested, "we'll become hermits and live off the land." The fantasy made Blair laugh and the sound echoed across the ravine and washed back over Jim like water. He soaked it in just as he had the fresh air and the joy he felt made him lean down to plant a tender kiss on his partner's temple. Too tired to restrain himself, only when he felt the heat rise in his friend's skin, did Jim realize he'd slipped up. His kiss had held all his feelings for the other man; tenderness, loyalty, compassion and above all love. Jim pulled back, unable to resist one last touch and brushed at the wind blown curls, "I'm tired, Chief, I think I'm going to call it a day." He left the younger man standing still looking out over the scenery, the expression on his face unreadable even to Jim. 

Simon's cabin had two beds, one small cot in the main area and then a larger, softer one in the bedroom off the kitchen. Jim hesitated, before when they used Simon's cabin he had always slept on the cot, compensation for the narrow bed Blair slept on in the loft. But right now Ellison knew if he didn't get some sleep he would collapse and never move again and prior experience had taught him sleeping on that couch he might not move again anyway. The headache had returned full force, temples throbbing with each beat of his heart, and he hadn't eaten much all day because his stomach felt as if it might turn inside out at any moment. Ellison opened the bedroom door, oblivious to the musty smell, and not even pausing to kick off his shoes, toppled onto the mattress. Darkness gathered at the corners of his mind like old women huddled in mourning, as his eyes sank closed they rushed forward to embrace him, taking him down into their nightmarish world. 

* * *

Blair gazed out over the breathtaking beauty and saw none of it. His mind replayed the kiss which had been bestowed on him only a moment before. Jim had always been affectionate, touching him from the first moments of their meeting. At first it had bothered him, what did it mean? Did Ellison think of him as some child to be coddled by his older, stronger friend? Then, as time passed, Sandburg came to understand this was Jim's only way of communicating his affectionate side. He'd been raised by a bullying father who considered any show of emotion, even friendship, a weakness. So, silently, Ellison had gone through life struggling to hide what he felt and show only what he felt was expected of him. But the kiss....had been different.....like a dream breaking free into reality. Blair shivered, wondering if he would horde the remembrance of that moment as he had the other. Jim had kissed him before, the memory of a quick brush of those silky lips had lingered in his head for months. He'd never told Jim, at the time it had seemed more a dream than reality, but each night when the nurse came finally forced him to leave, Jim would lean down and whisper a "good night" in his ear and then the caress of soft lips touched his forehead, his cheek and his lips. Blair had kept his eyes closed, afraid to look directly at the magic, afraid to wake from the dream which filled his heart for fear it wasn't real. Jim never said anything about it, and uncertain if it had been part of the hallucinations, neither had Blair. But since those nights, he had clung to that image, drawing comfort from it, falling asleep with the tingle of Ellison's mouth pressed against his own. Since then he had caught Jim's eye following him, the blue gaze smoky with some contained emotion. Ellison kept him close, Blair suspected part of it was fear his partner might get into trouble again but the link between them had strengthened, blistering with the deeper affections they shared. 

Heaving a sigh, Blair turned away and headed into the cabin. The bedroom door hung open and from inside the gentle sounds of Jim's breathing reached his ears. He passed along to the kitchen, pulling out items from the refrigerator for their supper. Jim hadn't eaten much for the last week, his sense of taste swinging erratically as his control stretched taunt, frayed, and snapped. Today he'd managed only a slice of toast at breakfast and Blair had suspected it had been eaten only to please him. He found some eggs, bread and a melon and set about making a meal his partner might be able to eat. Scrambling the eggs, Sandburg chuckled to himself, "little Suzie Homemaker. I feel so domestic!" Never, in all his daydreams, had the thought of cooking a meal for another man ever made him as happy as the reality of it did. He'd always pictured himself in exotic locals, discovering fascinating tribes of unknown peoples, setting the anthropology world on its ear with his amazing insights. He'd wanted to wander the entire world and know everything he could about it, and instead he was living in a pacific northwestern city in a cop's spare room and doing his best to look after the man who had become so important to him. And it was all he wanted to do. He wanted to be with Jim, even if Ellison hadn't been a Sentinel, and somehow they had met, he would have wanted to be with the older man. 

Blair scooped up the food, dishing it onto two plates and setting them on a tray. He found tea and made a pot, adding two cups to his tray and carried the whole thing towards the bedroom. Inside he could see Jim lying on his back, flannel shirt rucked up and a patch of smooth skin gleaming in the dimness. He'd watched Jim's stamina slowly eroded by the hectic trial. Each day Ellison was tossed into the lion's den, faced with a predatory lawyer determined to make a name for herself. Added to that the press had hounded Jim at every turn, a blitzkrieg of cameras bombarded them each time they entered or left the courthouse, leaving Jim with a tenuous hold on his fraying senses and even less of a hold on his temper. More and more, Blair had erected a barrier between his partner and the rest of the world, spurred by the bruised eyes and listlesness which grew worse each day the trial dragged on. At night, alone together in the loft, Blair had tried to keep Ellison focused, tried to help him handle the strain. He'd dropped everything to stick beside his partner, doing the only thing he could think of to save the man he cared about, and in those silences he'd learned something very important about his sentinel and the guide he had become. Blair had learned that despite his professionalism, despite his having learned the hard way over the years, despite himself he....loved. Sandburg stepped closer, letting his gaze linger on Jim's face; the high forehead, the strong chin, the eyes he knew were clear and gentle. A rush of desire ambushed him, making the cups rattle on the saucers and his stomach clench with uncertainty. "Blair?" The whispered plea sent him closer, positive his partner had waken and needed something, but when he reached the bed, Jim's eyes were closed tightly, his forehead beaded with sweat. "Don't, Chief," Ellison begged in a voice raw with need, "don't." 

"Jim?" Blair set down his tray, sloshing tea over the toast, and hurried to the bed. "Jim, it's okay, man. I'm right here, what's wrong?" Ellison's muscles were corded knots beneath his fingers, and the panting breaths were close to hyperventilation. A strong hand shot out, snagging Sandburg's wrist and jerking him closer. "Jim!" he squeaked as the fingers tightened and pain coursed up his arm. 

The agony in his voice broke through Ellison's nightmare, bringing him instantly awake. "Blair!" Panic filled blue eyes swept over Sandburg, settling on the wrist held in his own powerful grip. Dropping Blair's hand as if his flesh had sudden been scalded, Jim swallowed hard. "I-I'm sorry." 

"What were you dreaming?" Blair asked gently. He took in the groggy expression, the way Jim's words slurred with exhaustion. "About the Richards' case?" he guessed. 

Jim nodded, slumping back onto the bed with a heavy sigh, "yeah. I dreamt he pulled a gun after the verdict. God, the confusion and panic, people running and screaming and," he looked up with haunted eyes, "he pointed the gun at my chest and fired." 

"Oh, man." Not really knowing what he was doing, Blair touched Jim's cheek, the skin cool and clammy beneath his fingertips. "That must have been so horrible," he whispered but Ellison shook his head. 

"No, he didn't shoot me," Jim said. He stretched out a hand, smoothing Blair's hair in his familiar gesture, "at the last second you stepped 
    
    
    in front of me."  Ellison closed his eyes, "I felt you die.....in my
    arms, Chief......"  His words, fading, faltered and ended as his arms
    

came up protectively across his chest. Sandburg could only stare at his partner, stunned by the anguish he could hear in that gentle voice. Slowly, timidly Blair slid his arms over those so much stronger than his own, leaning down to rest his forehead against Jim's. 

"I won't lie," he whispered, "if I had to die to save you I wouldn't hesitate, Jim." A shudder wracked the muscled body he clung to and Blair tightened his hold, massaging Ellison's chest in a circular motion. "I'd trade my life for yours any day." 

Jim, still held in his partner's arms, the shattered look in his eyes vanishing under the pressure of a forced smile said, "don't even think about it, Chief." He warned, "if you ever did anything like that.....I'd have to kill you myself." Blair's heart turned over with the forced smile his partner produced and then nodded, his hair sweeping over Jim's face like a benediction. For another moment, they shared the closeness of their embrace and then Blair, remembering his mission, pulled reluctantly away. 

"I've made some dinner, wanna try and eat?" He lifted the tray, balancing it on his raised knees and looked at Jim. "You should really eat something," he said. Ellison glanced from the food to his partner and back. 

"Yeah, I think I'm kinda hungry," he answered. They ate there on the bed, shoulders and knees brushing but saying little. Blair kept a close watch on his partner, halfway through their meal Jim's eyelids began to sag. Struggling valiantly against his fatigue, Ellison took a few more bites but in the end Blair rescued the dangerously tilting plate from his hands. Working carefully, as if Jim were a child instead of his very grown up partner, Blair unbuttoned the other man's shirt. Jim watched him drowsily, moving as ordered, following the movements with heavy eyes as his shirt was tossed onto a chair and Blair went to work on his shoes and socks. "I'm cold," Ellison complained, but Sandburg hadn't finished. Deciding on the direct route, he attacked the zipper of Jim's jeans, making Ellison chuckle. "I've never been easy, Chief!" 

"No," Blair agreed, "you've always been difficult." He tugged the well worn denims off and tucked the blanket around his friend. "Now, go to sleep, big guy." 

When Sandburg began to leave the room, Jim roused himself, "you could sleep in here," he suggested, "this bed is big enough for us both." Blair traced the strong jaw line, heart swelling until all he could do was nod. Ellison let him go only long enough for Blair to check the door locks and turn out the lights. Slipping off his shirt and shoes then dropping his jeans, Blair climbed into the bed. Jim gave a satisfied grunt and curled up, falling asleep as Blair put on his glasses and opened a book. It felt weird at first, lying so close to his partner, but the warmth of Ellison's larger body, the soft sighs as he slept gradually lulled Blair to sleep. He woke only once when his book slipped to the floor, to find Jim's arm curved across his waist. Sandburg tossed his glasses on the nightstand, snapped off the bedside light and settled into sleep. 

* * *

Sunlight dived through a small crack in the curtains, sailed across the room and crashed against Sandburg's closed eyelids. He gave a guttural moan and burrowed back beneath the covers, cuddling up to the wall of warmth he encountered there. 

"Wha' timesit?" A sleepy voice asked. Sandburg remained quiet, hoping that Ellison's pathological need to know what time it was would go away and leave him asleep. It didn't happen. "Chief? I know you're awake, Sandburg," Jim commented. 

"I am not awake," Blair maintained, "I'm asleep and you are a nightmare." He pried one heavy eyelid open and attempted a glare. Actually, Jim looked nothing like a nightmare. With his short hair standing on end, his gentle eyes still soft from sleep, he looked like a dream come to life. A grin, totally unexpected, blossomed on Blair's face, "don't tell me you want to grab the fishing gear and head out to the stream this very moment?" 

Ellison's own grin widened, "no, I just wanted to see how long it would be before you fixed breakfast." 

"You just ate," Blair checked the clock, "twelve hours ago." He frowned, surprised they'd both slept so long, he knew Jim was exhausted just hadn't realized his own reserves had been so depleted. He watched Ellison flop over onto his back, blanket sliding down to his waist, a lazy smile curling his lips. Jim looked boneless, so relaxed Blair half expected to hear him purr. A giddy desire to press his mouth to that contented smile passed over Sandburg, making his heart race. 

"You okay, Chief?" Ellison's eyes popped open, nailing him with a concerned gaze. 

Blair summoned a grin and nodded, "yeah, just a chill." He sat up and made a show of chaffing his arms. The goose flesh spread across his arms had little to do with the cool air and everything to do with the warm body sprawled behind him. "How 'bout some Malt-O-Meal?" Blair asked. He knew Ellison couldn't refuse that, the man had an obsessive craving for the hot cereal, something Blair had found out the very first time he'd made it for breakfast. Jim ate bowl after bowl, only stopping when Sandburg broke into uncontrolled laughter. Then he had flushed bright red and stammered something about not having had it fixed for him in years. 

"Malt-O-Meal?" The eagerness in Ellison's voice made Blair laugh. 

"Yes," he confirmed. "I will struggled from this wonderfully warm bed, trudging through snow and ice just to slave over a hot stove for my buddy, my friend, my sentinel." He turned large innocent eyes on the older man. 

"Now, that's what I like to hear!" Jim heaved a sigh and tugged the blanket back up around his chest. "Wake me up when you're done cooking, Betty Crocker," he murmured and to all appearances drifted back to sleep. Blair sat there a moment just looking at his friend before getting up. Despite it having been an attempt to provoke sympathy, the main part of the cabin really was cool. Splashes of sunlight pooled on the floor boards, making puddles of warmth he tracked barefoot through but the air was slightly chilly and Blair found himself wishing he'd taken the time to toss one at least one of his shirts. He set the water to boiling while hunting out bowls and spoons. Jim seemed in better spirits this morning than he had in a long time and Blair found himself desperate to keep it that way. Humming to himself he made toast and coffee and brought their breakfast to the table, before heading back to wake Jim. 

"Jim?" He called, nudging the partially open door all the way open. Blankets crumpled on the floor, pillows wadded into lumps and jammed against the headboard, the bed was a mess. An empty mess. "Jim?" Blair could hear the rising note of panic in his own voice and fought it back, clearing his throat and telling himself Ellison had merely gone into the bathroom. But when he knocked on that door, it swung in to reveal another empty space. Sandburg whirled around, both hands combing through his hair, rummaging for some explanation when his mind was as deserted as the room had become. "Okay, he's not here," he whispered to himself, "he must have....gone outside..." He began to shake as the memory of Ellison's exhausted state and that deep ravine spreading out beneath the deck speared his mind. Blair had barely gotten his feet moving when the vibrations of something heavy hitting the floor reached him. "Ohmygod!" Sandburg gasped and raced for the door. "Jim!" 

The glass panes rattled as he twisted the handle and flung it open. He took it all in; the cloud dappled sky, a bank of storms moving in from the mountains, trees limbs bobbing in rhythm to his pounding heart, a crow circling like a bad omen, and the man sitting on the deck, rubbing his shin. "Don't yell, Sandburg," Jim growled. Blair dropped to his knees beside his partner, his eyes flickered over the older man like dragonflies searching for prey, never settling until his friend reached out and gripped his shoulder. "It's okay. I tripped, Blair. Smashed my kneecap on this stupid thing," he scowled at an innocent looking chair. 

Blair frowned, eyes clearly uncertain but wanting to believe. "What the hell are you doing out here?" Sandburg demanded in a voice which sounded little like his own. The raw patch of skin drew his fingers, he gently massaged the wounded area, absently noting Jim's utter stillness but unable to concentrate on anything but the fear which welled up from some deep pocket inside him. His partner still looked pale and drawn and though he tried to hide it, Blair could still see the fissures in his iron control. "I thought.....I thought you fell," he glanced back over his shoulder at the steep slope and shuddered. Only when a strong hand gripped his wrist did Blair meet his partner's eyes. 

His fears must have been visible to Ellison. "I'm okay," Jim repeated. A sigh broke from his lips as he gathered Blair to his side, holding him snugly as the sun peeked out from behind a cloud. The words rumbled through Jim's chest, resonating deep inside Blair and making him sigh as well. Though Ellison was affectionate and he had never been shy about touching his partner, in the last week he had hugged Sandburg with an almost obsessive need to reassure himself that Blair was still beside him. The younger man settled into the embrace, staring out over the valley. Like giant hands full of emeralds tossed across the land from horizon to horizon, trees spread as far as they could see. The most beautiful places on Earth bring with them as their price an almost unbearable melancholy. Where harsh, barren stretches of desert make a person fight for survival, and the battle produces an unconquerable will to live, a paradise like the Cascade Mountains made a person remember that the natural world didn't need them. Every sadness, every longing, was magnified tenfold by the beauty, leaving a person humbled and awed and more lonely than before. Only when it was shared by two individuals could the pain be banished and when Blair glanced up into Jim's eyes, eyes which brimmed with tenderness he could see the shadows in his friend's eyes fade a bit. 

"You want to stay out here," Sandburg asked, "or go inside and eat?" He stood and offered a hand to Ellison who took it and pulled himself upright. Neither man was ready when Jim suddenly swayed, his body colliding with Blair's and almost sending them both over the flimsy railing. "Jim!" Blair gripped him tighter, "easy, easy." His heart slammed against his ribs, threatening to snap them from his spinal column. All Blair could see was Jim disappearing, leaving him alone for the rest of his life with the words he wanted to say forever locked inside him. 

"I really am okay," Jim assured his partner, "just stood up too fast." But his skin had taken on a chalky hue and when he shook his head to clear it he again staggered. When they went back into the cabin, Ellison draped his arm around his partner's shoulders and leaned into the embrace. They ate in silence, Blair nervously watching Jim swallow his meal with mechanical movements, answering Blair's concerned questions with evasions. He managed to finish most of the food Blair sat in front of him but refused to be drawn into conversation longer than a few words. When they had finished eating he excused himself and went into the bedroom. Blair expected his partner to try and sleep a few more hours but Jim surprised him by returning fully dressed and carrying his fishing rod. He left Sandburg staring after him, afraid to follow but more afraid not to. 

"Screw this," Blair muttered. He threw on the clothes he'd worn the day before, snatched up his books and hurried after his partner. Ellison sat beside the placid water, line already dangling into that shimmering veil. Blair found a spot a couple of feet away; far enough to allow his friend some privacy but close enough in case he was needed. As the morning progressed the sentinel pulled more and more into himself, further away from the blue gaze which sought to read his every thought. 

**  
Ellison leaned his head back, letting the morning sun bathe his face and soak deep inside him. The dull throb behind his eyes was driving him crazy, it was constant now, slowly robbing him of sanity and making him long for oblivion. Sweet oblivion, where nothing could touch him again and his life would be as it had for as long as he could remember \- before his senses had kicked in, before he'd become a Sentinel, before he'd met.....a shudder wracked his body. Oblivion - where there was no Blair. Sometimes he longed for that nothingness and other times just the thought of never having his partner beside him again left him sick and dizzy with fear. If Sandburg knew what had happened only a short while ago he would have gone ballistic. Fearless, protective Blair. Rivaling the sunshine for the warmth it produced, memories of Blair standing toe to toe with him, never backing down, forcing him to listen to reason, holding him back in his rages, swelled inside Jim. God, how he'd loved his partner at that moment. Sandburg's protective instincts were as powerful as his own, and it had been that knowledge which had almost sent Jim tumbling over the balcony. Blair had been right beside him, dragged down by Jim's weakness. 

Dizzy, Jim remembered needing fresh air. He'd made his way silently to the back door, wanting only to be alone. Standing looking over the deep gorge his mind had replayed every image he'd ever hoarded of the young anthropologist, the smiles, the unswerving dedication he possessed, the amazing tenderness Sandburg sometimes showed him. It had been then, trapped by those memories, that the first pain had raced through his head, burning the pictures away like the Golden Fire People falling into ash. He'd staggered, barely able to keep from taking a header off the deck. He'd come up with an explanation for Sandburg, tripping over a chair, kind of lame but it would do until he could find an answer - on his own. Jim tried to understand what was happening to him. At first he'd thought it was the trial; overloading his senses, frying his resistance and sending him skidding out of control, but that should have gone away once they left Cascade behind and yet it had only worsened. 

He had to be careful, if anything happened to Blair...as if on cue the sound of rushed footsteps, the unconscious babble of his partner's words reached Jim. He tracked his friend from the cabin as the younger man slipped and stumbled down the incline, coming to a halt a few yards from where Jim sat in the sun. Ellison couldn't help the smile which graced his lips, Sandburg stood there, clothes disheveled, grass stains marring the knees of his jeans, and leaves clinging to his wild curls. He looked so much a part of the forest, some sprit, some satyr standing in the dappled light. Jim held his breath, statue still for fear of frightening this untamed creature into fleeing back into the mist. Blair, his guide, the most important person in the world....It was like a war raging inside his skull, thoughts of Blair exploded across his mind, phosphorescent glimpses of that cherished face flared, lighting the way for a crushing attack. Pain ripped through Ellison's temples, drawing a moan from deep inside as he clutched his head. 

Distantly Sandburg's frantic cries reached him, begging him to answer but white-hot bullets ricocheted, keeping him silent but for a low keening which broke from his clenched teeth. Words, barely discernible through his exploding skull, made him flinch each time Blair called to him. His instincts, the inbred response he had to Sandburg's voice, only tightened the iron bands slowly squeezing his head. Each time he reached for that comforting presence agony flared across his nerves, driving him back into the void until finally he let go and gave into the blackness. Freed by the pain, Ellison floated in darkness bumping against fear and duty and desire. And then like a curtain drawn back by an invisible hand, the blackness parted. Jim stepped forward and met the warrior wearing his own face, knowing his secrets were secrets no longer. 

//What do you fear?// Ellison dug deep inside himself, hunting for the answer, when the image of his guide, of his Blair lying so still and lifeless in the hospital punctured his thoughts and wrenched a groan of purest despair from deep down inside him. 'I fear being alone." he whispered, 'I fear never seeing him again. Never being allowed to be his friend, the person he turns to, asks help from.' 

//You fear loving him,// the spirit taunted. //You would rather lick your wounds in private, wallowing in self pity than tell him.// Ellison's fists clenched, his breath came in short harsh pants as the ancient sentinel continued to mock his despair, jeering his loneliness. //You would spend your life alone, afraid to ask him to stay.// With a roar of rage, Ellison threw himself at the apparition. Blows with the force of an atomic explosion slammed into his body, pummeling his chest and smashing his head from side to side. Cracks formed in the wall he'd built, bricks of fear held together by a mortar sorrow shattered, chunks of self-indulgence rained down on him. An abyss opened beneath his feet, all consuming blackness rose, ready to swallow his soul forever, leaving nothing of Jim Ellison. Trust him, the sentinel advised, trust him with this as you have your life. Jim clung to the edge, swinging out over the pit, dangling above oblivion. 

There in the darkness Ellison had no way of knowing his words had been spoken aloud, nor could he feel the tears which leaked from his shut eyelids, spilling over his cheeks. "Oh, god." Sandburg's voice, like silver light spilling over his body, cradling him and pulling him back from the brink. Jim opened his eyes to find himself lying in his guide's arms, leaning on a chest which heaved with desperate emotion. "Jim, can you hear me? Come on, man," he pleaded, "say you're okay." The look in his partner's eyes, the terror so evident, slowly faded, replaced by something soft and warm as velvet. Only in the instant before Blair leaned down to kiss him, did Ellison even realize it could ever happen outside of fantasy. 

Eternity spun itself out, worlds were born and died fiery deaths as Jim lost himself in the kiss. Softly, insistently, Blair plundered his soul, tongue licking delicately at his lips until he granted entrance. Like a seed planted in fertile ground, the kiss sprouted and brought forth a passion Jim had never felt before. It wrung a sobbing sigh from his heart and made even death seem something which would never touch him. When his guide began to pull away, his lips lingering with a promise to return, Ellison reached up to cup his partner's face. 

"Why didn't you tell me," Blair demanded. "Why didn't you say.....why didn't you say...." He turned away, hair tumbling down over his eyes, hiding them from Jim. "Jesus James," he whispered, "do you know how long I've waited?" 

"I...I didn't think," Jim stuttered, "think you'd want...me." He reached up again, pushing the curtain of hair aside so he could gaze into smoky blue eyes, eyes which soothed away the last of his pain. The kiss bestowed upon his mouth, began with a gentleness so sweet Jim could feel his heart skip a beat but quickly the pressure deepened, demanding a response equal to Blair's. Arms clutched him, holding him so tight breathing didn't seem possible, refusing to let him go until Sandburg's need had banked down into a manageable passion. 

"How could you think I don't love you?" Blair asked. "How could you not know?" Jim sighed, and claimed what had always been his. 

* * *

Outside the storm which had threatened all day had finally fulfilled its promise. Rain pelted the windows, blown vertical by a wind which circled the cabin like a wolf. But inside, firelight danced around the cozy room, painting a circle of golden light on the floor and leaving the corners in shadow. In this world of their own creation, Jim Ellison shifted against the pillows behind his back, and reached down to stroke his friend's cheek. Blair lay sprawled against his chest, head cushioned by one broad shoulder, hands burrowed beneath Jim's back. If this was what it felt like to merely hold each other sex would kill them. They had nestled together during the afternoon, speaking in soft voices, Jim slowly telling of the painful episodes which had overcome him. Blair listened, asking question after question. Ellison could hear the hurt and confusion in his partner's voice. Blair expected, after all this time, his friend to share his sentinel experiences with him, to let him help, to help him guide. Failure for Ellison to do so, only hurt them both. 

"Each time you let yourself think about...me," Blair murmured, "each time you admitted you loved me, you subconsciously punished yourself." Sandburg's words brushed across Jim's naked chest, the stubble on his jaw tickled his skin. Ellison stroked down the supple back, his fingers roaming over the knobs of his partner's spine until his fingertips rested just beneath the waistband of Blair's jeans. Allowed to touch, he had mapped the desirable body using his heightened senses; he knew every inch of flesh along Sandburg's back, he could identify the ridges of muscle over his ribs, the patterns of hair across his pectorals, Blair had become his guide to pleasure as well. Nothing more than fiery kisses had passed between them but the deepening intimacy between them filled Jim with wonder and joy. Hope surged through him, given time he and his partner would step beyond this level as well, but for now, holding Blair, knowing his partner truly loved him, sufficed. "You should have told me what was happening," Blair admonished. He raised himself, propping both elbows on the wide chest so that he could glare down into Jim's eyes. 

"I couldn't," Ellison admitted. "It was so overwhelming. Everything was too much; the trial, you, everything." 

"But that's part of it," Blair insisted. "You felt helpless, you couldn't deal with it alone but you wouldn't let yourself need me." His glare softened, filling with the light Jim craved, "you're not alone anymore, Jim. Whatever you feel you have to understand I will take half of it." He leaned down, capturing lips which surrendered willingly. Sealed mouth to mouth, hearts thundering in time together, Jim felt the last shreds of his despair lift. No more did he wonder why he did it, he knew. He did it for Blair. He did it because he was a Sentinel. 

End 


End file.
